


Tell me about the mountains you climbed and the seas you sailed

by Laeana



Series: ←a far wholesome love than theirs→ [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breaking Up & Making Up, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Feelings, Five emotional wounds, Fix-It, Friendship/Love, Getting Back Together, Grief/Mourning, Love Confessions, M/M, Through the Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:35:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: Charles realized it pretty quickly.That there was something wrong with him.
Relationships: Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Series: ←a far wholesome love than theirs→ [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035801
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Tell me about the mountains you climbed and the seas you sailed

( **searching for answers you never found.** )

* * *

Charles realized it pretty quickly. That there was something wrong with him. There was this feeling in him, disturbing, a little too present, but which had not yet taken precise form. He just lived with it, not knowing what it really was and what it would do to him.

He thinks he doesn't really feel it, he thinks maybe his imagination is playing tricks on him. Because, if from time to time bruises appear on his body, it’s so rare that he quickly forgets them.

Just as these first childhood friendships are quickly forgotten, these faces, these people who will never be seen again.

He learns his subject quickly in class, just as it is taught to him in everyday life. A story about sensitivity, what it can do to people, its strength, its presence, and until then he considers himself to be a fairly normal person.

If from time to time he feels things more deeply than the others, a little more, he tells himself that it isn’t serious. That it isn’t much. He totally internalizes these emotions and his life is going quite well. He can live very well without even realizing it, without even caring about it.

His favorite moments take place during the race. Of course, he does the right thing on the side, studies are important, it has been repeated enough to him but basically he lets go. He wants to become, no, he will be a Formula One driver. He is sure of it, it’s his ambition.

He thinks he could have continued to live like this, to feel nothing more than a little tug from time to time, deep inside him, sometimes a fleeting wound, quickly forgotten. But in 2014 his life changes for the first time.

He thinks he's never cried so much and he doesn't understand why it hurts so much. He doesn't want to think about it any more, but his whole body seems to give way before him and what he has always repressed until then appears to him even more violently.

He isn’t yet sixteen at the time, he doesn’t understand.

Or rather he doesn’t want to understand.

Clouds of bruises over his body. It’s the first time that he has such a visible reaction and he wonders why his heart keeps hurting him so much. The sensation is unbearable, he has the impression of being suddenly underwater, the air is hard to find. His sobs too strong, too heavy.

He is hurt. 

He is in pain and this pain is as much physical as mental. The person he just lost … he still can't believe it happened. 

His mother hugs him and cradles him that night, like he's just a kid, maybe he still is, and her worry about his injuries pushes them on to go see a doctor.

Charles hit the jackpot.

He is sensible. That's what he felt all the time deep inside him, which he desperately tried to hide from himself, because he wanted to be normal, because he needed to be normal. Because nothing mattered more than that. Because maintaining that perfect facade that he has already started to emerge is harder when he has such flaws.

Yes, it’s a loophole. It’s a miscalculation, it’s a problem that can never be solved. He knows he will live with it forever.

His emotional wound is abandonment.

Predictable ? He doesn't know himself. It’s to give a reason to this tense feeling, of anxiety, which he always felt. This terrible fear of being left alone, that the world will get tired of him. 

Grieving is too hard to do.

To be honest, he'll probably never be able to fully do it. How to forget, how to heal the abyssal void left by someone who was dear to us ? How not, deep down, keep a thought of “what they could have done, what they could have said, what they could have been”? It's a hollow in the soul that never completely closes.

It’s often said that the greatest tribute to those who are no longer is to continue to be happy without them, which is why Charles gets up for the first time. Because he's still here, the world hasn't stopped, it will never stop, no matter how cruel it is, no matter how much he needs a second, even just one, to breathe.

A real trauma.

He continues to fight against, every morning as he gets up. He never forgets but his wounds disappear and heal. Time erases them, like an indicator, like a sort of reminder of what separates the living from those who have passed away.

Three years then elapse. Three years where little is happening, nothing that does add bruises to his body. Abandonment. He assumes that people need to count a minimum in his eyes for it to really mean anything. He surrounds himself with the right people, chooses his entourage and makes the choice never to become too attached when necessary.

He is still young but as the years go by and pass through his fingers and he is suddenly so close to making his dream come true. It all happened very quickly. It all happened so quickly, he tries to keep his feet on the ground but is having a chaotic year in terms of emotions, in terms of what he experiences.

Winning the F2 championship, but at what cost … 

Facing another loss.

It's violent and he doesn't have his mother to console him when the news is there. His breathing stops again, the same feeling of being underwater, except this time it feels so unreal. He can't believe it.

He knows already the procedures that will follow and he doesn’t want to go through them again. He is terrified of it. He has the impression that if he stays in this position, in this darkened room, a little longer, he could avoid reality and all that it has just given him. He could avoid this news.

He covers his ears, lets sobs ravage him. Why ? It isn’t fair, it really isn’t fair. And yet, and yet as if the world was laughing at him, took him throaty to remind him that unfortunately it is so and nothing can change that.

His body is on fire and he doesn't want to see another blue, purple, black, dark galaxy that has probably appeared there. He's already hurting enough like that, he doesn't want to heal, he wants to keep this pain with him a little longer. To suffer, to keep the memory, the warmth of a last embrace with him.

When his crying subsides, leaving him feeling dizzy, discomfort in his mouth, strangely empty, emotions for the moment silent, he knows he's been cursed from the moment he turned out to be too sensitive.

But it's a part of him and he knows he is … he knows he is less complete when he tries to suppress all that. What he missed for years and which came out even more violently. Maybe it's less worse when it comes to the wounds on his skin, he can't assess his feelings, he doesn't think he can or even that it can be done. Pain is pain. A loved one remains one.

And being left alone once again has the same feeling, the same bitterness and the same sorrow.

Arriving into Formula One means a lot.

Charles is offered several choices. He decides to keep his specifics to himself, rather than revealing them. Always too special, in a way, he is immune to unpleasant surprises.

He wonders if there are other people like him around him. He looks for the answer with a certain curiosity, because anyone seems to be able to hide it, he manages it very well himself. Who ? Who, who, who ?

And being there means reconnecting more with people he hasn't seen face to face for too long for his liking. It's finding Pierre and it's a real pleasure to see him and that warms his heart more than anything. He has lived through difficult years but in their embraces, he seems to be able to find a little lightness, to feel a little more himself.

But it never lasts long, it doesn't linger. They both have girlfriends, he knows how to play this game constantly, how to never deviate from it. He's not afraid of how he feels about himself, but he knows that an arrangement for convenience isn't the most honest he can do. He almost feels a little bad about it.

What is it after all, other than two or three messages exchanged, a visit, a quick fuck, a date to satisfy, and repeat the same circus several times ?

It may sound terrible worded like that, he's not happy about it but that's how it works on that side. Defending a character, a behavior, a new concept. He's good at that, a little too good.

What he has with Pierre is far too pure on the side. Like a rediscovery, they can steal moments again, see each other more and his heart squeezes in his chest a little more each time he sees him. He tries not to pay too much attention to it because this time he's afraid of misinterpreting the facts, he's afraid of being in the wrong, he doesn't want to ruin the great relationship they have.

But-

At the end of 2018 big news has already been announced. Ferrari and Red Bull and that's the kind of future he wants to see. He is always a little closer to realizing his dream and he knows he has to do it. For himself and for all those who left him on the way. He carries with him much more than his own expectations. A welcome weight on his shoulders.

The love that crucifies him.

When Pierre sends him a message to find out if he is in Monaco and if he is available, he doesn’t resist the temptation. He honestly doesn't know what to expect, he doesn't even know how to dress, he has so many doubts and so many questions, he thinks his heart is going to let go when he shows up on that terrace, a little far away city, and his eyes fall on his friend, young but already so mature, too elegant, too handsome, in fact.

He sits in his seat, directly opposite. A shy glance between them, a lot can happen between them at this moment, but they remain unperturbed, in their bubble. Whether it's from a butterfly flapping to a storm, nothing could disturb them, oddly enough.

“I'm glad you came.” admits the Frenchman with a small smile.

“I'm glad I came too. But I would like …” he swallows “I would like to know why I’m here ?”

The older one vacillates for a moment, uncertain, lost, he seems to need a moment of his own to choose his words carefully, so as not to be mistaken. He wonders if this is what he imagined is happening.

“I guess it’s justified.”

Their starters are deposited by the waiters and that leaves a little longer time for his companion who seems nervous. As nervous as him …

“I have a lot to tell you and I'm afraid I won't find the right words. Meeting again this year has been such … happiness, such joy. Seeing you has definitely brightened up my year, Charlie. But I …”

Pierre looks down and he feels the need to tell him to keep looking at him. He wants to see those beautiful blue orbs and the look on his face when he says …

“But I wish we were more than friends, Charles. More than best friends. I love you a little too much to be satisfied with it.”

He just nods his head, eyes shining, it takes him a moment to realize that the Frenchman is waiting for an oral answer. He's not sure he can do it, his throat is so tight, honestly. The stress was strong but as he slackens and love overwhelms him he feels too emotional.

“Oh uh yes … yes I …” he puts his hand on Pierre's which is simply resting on the table “Me too, mon trésor, I love you a little too much to be only friends.”

A little surprise in the eyes of his companion and he gives him a shy smile. Pierre rearranges their hands to intertwine their fingers and they spend the entire evening in a similar position, unable to do more, their eyes speaking for them. A thousand and one promises.

It is perhaps one of the happiest days of his life, which makes him forget the pain a little, everything that may have happened during those years. A welcome comfort, they hurried back to his apartment and discovered each other for the first time, sweeping aside the shyness they had felt.

Then, snuggled up in Pierre's arms, he thinks it will be fine. 

He thinks that no matter what happens next, he can overcome it. It seems to him like a refuge, a place where he is protected, protected from anything that could happen to him. 

And it lasts, it lasts more than a year. They have time to have some great adventures, he can tell. He had time to see the glimmer of hope diminish in Pierre's eyes and he cursed Red Bull as he held his boyfriend in a bad shape, in doubt, wondering if it was him who wasn't good enough.

No matter how many words go by, where he tries to fix what he never can, nothing changes.

Then a hard blow.

Pierre comes to his door, exhausted, looking like he hasn’t slept for days, miserable, telling him his situation. Another afternoon of hugging him, and it does something to them.

And this time, there is a split.

Between them.

He doesn’t want to feel it like that but the caresses become less affectionate, an annoyance sets in, their gazes flee and their hands avoid each other. Yet deep down he loves him, he loves him so much. He never stopped loving him. Something less healthy has taken hold.

Anthoine's death hits them differently and maybe that's just enough. They meet in the same restaurant, still expensive and upscale, the rehearsal of a popular scene. Pierre never looks him in the eye.

“I think we have to stop there, before anything else happens.”

Charles lets go of his fork, he is so surprised. He looks up because he can't believe his boyfriend is breaking up with him. Not now.

“You … are you breaking up with me ? Is that what you are doing ?” wide-eyed because he doesn't want to think about it, he doesn't want to admit it.

He always had in mind that if something bad happened between them, they would get it all right, somehow fix it. They were supposed to be stronger than that after all, much stronger.

“Yes.” Pierre admits, finally looking at him, for the first time this evening. “Yes and I think that's the best thing to do.”

“How can it be ? In times when I need you and when you need me … in times when we need to be strong together more than ever … after everything we've been through … I just can't seem to believe it.”

It hurts so much. In shock, he feels tears beading at the corners of his eyes and suddenly the thought of staying here a minute longer is unbearable. He throws the towel that was on his knees, that he was wrinkling and wrinkling again nervously from the beginning of the evening, on the table and gets up, deaf to the calls of his companion.

He's in so much pain. He feels betrayed.

There are only events that leave him hurt from the inside. 

His first victories follow and soon he forgets all those bruises that marked his body, he forgets how much it hurts. He can replace bad memories with something else. But the love in his chest never goes away. He associates too much meaning with it to be able to let it go.

It's friendship, it was above all friendship between them, races, moments, smiles, tears. Together. To wonder what the future could hold for them. His well-kept secret with him, without saying another word, one word too much. He is a master in this art, a master in the art of pretending and pretending to be.

Charles struggled to admit the toxicity of a relationship, of his relationship. He was blind there too long so … so he prefers to let Pierre go. He prefers that this one doesn’t know the pain to which he exposed him … he doesn’t want to make him feel guilty. He wants him to be free in his actions, he doesn't want to hold him back.

No matter how badly it hurts him.

Then Pierre doesn't need him, because barely after their separation he has already found a girlfriend.

So he plays it in turn. Because he's good at playing with the media.

But then a finding more striking than the others, which disturbs him. Why don't his wounds go away ? Each has done it before, without fail. Leaving his skin desperately white, whiter even than it looked. Because he always healed from those feelings. A background remained to him but this mourning … he couldn’t afford to wear it for a lifetime. Too heavy.

In the evening, in his bed, he still has memories. Contacts, words, laughter that fade a little more each day. He would like to keep them longer with him, just one more moment. He is afraid of oblivion.

While with Pierre, he remains close, they continue to be friends. They couldn't break off all ties, they couldn't have let go of such a great relationship.

So this may be the reason.

Maybe they're too close.

Maybe he still feels the burn of abandonment, and until his love for the other driver is gone, his injury will not go away. It doesn't seem like a silly reasoning to him, but it’s impractical to him for a whole lot of reasons.

The messages they exchange burn him, the looks they exchange burn him, a mere touch from him burns him, and he doesn't know how to live with it. What to do with those feelings that encumber him.

For the first time in a long time, being too sensitive again becomes a burden, something that makes him dive further.

In his everyday life.

Because he doesn't bring himself to stop now for the sake of everything he's done before. So it's learning to smile twice, naturally, and ignore the tip of pain, the slow flame that threatens to destroy him end to end. 

The confinement is long.

The start of the season made him confirm several things. Pierre is single again and he is definitely better. He is fine, he seems happy, and Charles feels the lack even more intensely than before.

He knew something had rekindled, that Brazil had been the trigger for so much more, but it still left a bitter edge in him that he hadn't been there for his friend anymore. For the one who had been his boyfriend. He's failed, sort of, and he doesn't mind keeping track of that failure a little longer with him.

Max is just a trigger like any other. The marks on his body … so similar to those that marked his. And the look of Daniel who said a little too much.

Getting people out of his apartment was not easy. Some were looking for explanations, half probably wouldn't remember the next day. He sighs as he closes his door, alone.

Or almost alone.

Pierre still sits on his sofa, a cocktail in his hand, not disturbed by the din and chaos all around. 

“Do you know that by get out I meant everyone out ?”

The Frenchman takes a sip and he swallows when he sees his tongue pass over his lips, so as not to miss a beat.

“You quickly recognized it.”

He must have an incredulous look, not understanding the subject since his friend hastens to clarify with a vague wave of the hand :

“What had Max. His problem.”

“You … did you hear us ?”

“You weren't very quiet.”

He almost has the instinct to tighten his grip on the shirt he's wearing. Because he honestly doesn't want his secret revealed, too. He can only understand Max's envy and his reasons and their wound is different but the outcome is the same.

“So what ? I learned my lessons well.” he simply replies, because he doesn't want to say more.

He hears only a slight noise and when he looks up, Pierre has put his glass on the table and comes closer to him.

“I think I can make the connections, Charlie. But are you going to let me do it ?”

Frozen, perhaps amazed at the bottom, he doesn’t manage to say anything and, already, the Frenchman grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers together, maintaining contact halfway up, between their two torsos.

“I had always thought of something because … because I saw bruises on your body. Even though it was light. Subjects you didn't want to bring up … and I suffered like you, mon cœur. To have lost them. But it was different from you, right.”

A shiver runs through him, he said nothing. He didn't say anything and yet it seems that this is enough for Pierre to guess it. They might know each other too well, yes.

“You have it too. This heightened sensitivity.”

“You … how the- …” 

He shakes his head, his voice fading in his throat. The surprise is great. Because they moved away, he expected nothing more. Yes, in reality, he was waiting for the extinction of this love beating in his chest. But nothing more.

“I'm sorry, Charles, for a lot of things. But I know we needed to stop, I know it wasn't the right time for us.”

“When will it be then ?” he dares to ask in a small voice.

When Pierre loosens the hold on his hand, he says to himself that it was too much, he says to himself that it's over, that he's going to be failed, without any trouble, but then the two arms of the Frenchman wrap around him. A trembling breath escapes him.

“You know deep down I think I would stop never loving you sweetheart . Because you took too important a place in my eyes.”

“So don't leave me.” he whispers, into the crook of his partner's neck, "So don't give up on me again.”

“Charles, I …”

They stand in silence, one against the other. Pierre respects his word and doesn’t leave his apartment, staying by his side throughout. 

Rebuilding what they once were takes, to his surprise, more time than he would have thought.

To a point where it's almost frustrating.

He's on the verge of yelling at his mate that he's not made of glass so it would be nice if he could stop walking on eggshells around him. Fucking hell. He hates this situation, he hates everything that happens.

But also, his wound begins to heal, finally. To fade as each has done before it. And he knows he's on the right track somewhere. That he is reaching his goal.

Their situation, dancing around the subject, doesn’t last long. He doesn't allow it.

He is the one who sends a message to find out if his friend is available and if he is in Monaco. When he has a confirmation, he wonders if it might not be time to rehearse a popular scene … Date fixed, at the same place as their debut, as a warning. To leave Pierre free to make his own decisions.

Thus, he sits on the terrace, in front of a glass of wine, to watch the landscape stretching out before his eyes. The passing cars, the crossings of the city … to wonder if he will be left alone or not.

Then the chair in front of him moves and when he turns his head, Pierre gives him an almost shy smile before settling down in front of him.

“Hi.”

“You came.” he whispers, because he didn't know what to expect.

“Of course …” his tone of voice is not higher “Of course I couldn't have left you alone like that.”

“Despite what that might imply ?”

“Especially for what it might imply.”

They exchange a look, the first of the evening, and he is surprised at how calm, serene the French is.

“I … I don't understand.”

Charles blinks, trying to break away from the emotions battling in his chest. It's hard. He's so hopeful, he's waited so long for it to happen that … 

“My feelings haven't changed in a year.” Pierre simply declares, shrugging his shoulders.

A strangled sound escapes from his throat. He is on the verge of bursting into tears or hitting the one in front of him. On the contrary, he ignores his drink, comes forward to grab his ex by the collar and presses his lips against his with force. 

This kiss ignites so much in him. Memories, a feeling of almost suffocating familiarity. Love that flows in, that never seems to have left him, yes.

He loosens his lips with a soft sob and Pierre, one hand on his neck, keeps their foreheads pressed against each other.

“I hate you …” 

“I know, Charlie, I know, sweetheart.”

He probably crumpled his shirt just by that gesture. Tears roll down his cheeks now. Pierre puts his arms around him and kisses his face several times, patient, more patient than he has ever been.

“I wanted to be there for everything you were going through … I wanted … it hurt that you left me. I didn't want to leave you.” he admits and his partner rocks him gently, to appease him, to appease the tumult which besieges his heart.

It feels good to be able to admit it. He needed to admit it so badly. This mark, this wound that hadn’t disappeared, these feelings that seemed always stronger inside him. So many things.

He eventually calms down. The scene must seem ridiculous, he's getting tired of all these restaurants overly fancy, overpriced . 

He says it out loud and Pierre nods before taking his hand. They leave the restaurant with almost nothing to eat and end up at the nearest McDonald's, driving through the streets worrying about nothing. Laughing at the bad jokes, dancing vaguely to the music playing on the radio.

And each of the glances exchanged seems stronger than the last. And each of the smiles exchanged seems even more sincere.

Then, lying in his bed, the sheets barely covering their naked forms, Pierre caresses the ecchymosis which is disappearing, which is now barely visible, thoughtful.

“Have you had any before, for each of them ?”

He has the impression that his companion already knows the answer. Maybe because it is obvious. Maybe because suffering like this always leaves a mark, somewhere, deep inside them.

“It terrifies me sometimes. Because …” he turns to face the one he loves “Because there is nothing I can do about it. Because that's life but … losing someone is …”

“I know.”

Of course he knows.

Sometimes he forgets. He forgets that he is not the only one with this feeling of unfinished dream, of melancholy of a time which will not return and if there is indeed someone who can understand him it’s Pierre.

Pierre interlaces their fingers and kisses the back of his hand tenderly, keeping it with him. His blue eyes scan him one last time before he closes them. He knows he can't afford to be afraid.

Because he has to live.

**Author's Note:**

> This, to follow Charles through years, has been a bit more complicated to write. I don't know yet how to say that, how to talk about it ... just a feeling I have. I had. But this emotional wound was more specific than the one of Max, so I had to be careful about how I was using it ... I somehow wrote this between two other stories. It's a bit ... I made a break in the middle of it, scared I wasn't heading in the right direction.
> 
> there's three other wounds left ... 
> 
> I hope you liked this part and that you like this small series ...
> 
> tumblr : laeana


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